


Solidify the Bond

by MissMaudlin



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Shameless Smut, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMaudlin/pseuds/MissMaudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking her by the wrist, Crane pulled her closer until her body aligned with his: her heat seeped through his clothing, her scent—jasmine, he knew—drifting to his nose. He felt awash in sensation, sensation that screamed only one name: Abbie. Abbie, Abbie, Abbie.</p><p>"If you don’t know by now that you are the most important being in my life," Crane explained, encircling her waist with one hand before lifting her chin with the other, "then you aren’t as clever as I thought."</p><p>[Vault smut from 2.14]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solidify the Bond

When the Lieutenant touched his shoulder—such a light touch, her hand small and warm even through the layers of his coat and shirt—Crane found his thoughts scatter, dandelion seeds blowing in the wind.

"I didn’t mean to keep it from you," the Lieutenant explained, her voice soothing his overtaxed nerves. Nerves frayed when he’d found that sigil and wondered why she’d kept it from him; nerves further tested when he realized that she’d had every right to seek help elsewhere when he had been concerned with what he’d imagined more important duties. The bitter knowledge that the Lieutenant had felt the need to keep such an object, to keep the knowledge that this angel would come to her aid regardless of time or situation—this meant that she no longer thought he could be that man, worthy of her trust. Not anymore.

"But I thought it’d open a can of worms if I did tell you." The Lieutenant—Miss Mills—lifted her hand and he mourned its absence, its slight weight against him. He found himself lifting his own hand to touch the space where hers had been. It was only when he heard her step away that he realized the picture he must make: crouched, hand on his own shoulder, silent and contemplative.

He rose quickly, facing Miss Mills. Her face remained impassive, neither overly apologetic nor angry. Simply assessing as she always did: never revealing her emotions easily or flagrantly. And suddenly he wanted to see her emotions, see her inner self, see _her_ , see her laid bare like he felt himself laid bare right at this moment. He wanted that and he knew he didn’t deserve such a gift, so he placed his hands behind his back to keep from reaching for her.

"I am just as much to blame," Crane began, explaining his recent decisions, admitting how he’d wronged Miss Mills by acting without her consent. He watched her closely, hoping she’d believe him, that their bond hadn’t been irreparably damaged by his idiocy. Clenching his hands, he felt his heart pound in his chest.

Miss Mills nodded at his speech, but soon turned away, her back to him now. “I sometimes wonder, though, if our partnership isn’t what is used to be,” she stated, her voice slightly hesitant. “That maybe _we_ aren’t what we used to be, you know?”

 _No_ , Crane wanted to shout. _No, I don’t know_. He couldn’t imagine his life without their friendship, their partnership, their bond. Stepping towards Miss Mills, he reached for her hand but stopped himself before he touched her. “Lieutenant—”

Turning, Miss Mills interrupted him, “It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here first.”

And as she stepped beyond him, Crane found himself reaching for her again, this time taking her hand in his, enfolding it within his larger one. She was so tiny, was his Lieutenant: but her small stature belied her courage and strength. Tracing the bones of her hand, slight and delicate, Crane said, “It does matter. It is, I must say, the most important thing, above anything else in my life.”

Miss Mills stayed silent a moment, simply watching as he traced and touched her hand, her lashes lowered slightly. As he stroked his thumb down the center of her palm, he saw her mouth part, the tip of her pink tongue darting to wet her lips. “What are you saying?” she asked, her voice throaty, the lowness of it making him shiver.

Taking her by the wrist, Crane pulled her closer until her body aligned with his: her heat seeped through his clothing, her scent—jasmine, he knew—drifting to his nose. He felt awash in sensation, sensation that screamed only one name: Abbie. Abbie, Abbie, Abbie.

"If you don’t know by now that you are the most important being in my life," Crane explained, encircling her waist with one hand before lifting her chin with the other, "then you aren’t as clever as I thought."

Abbie stiffened slightly at his proclamation, but as he brushed her bottom lip with his thumb, he felt her hand clench in his shirtfront. Her breathing increased before she said in a soft voice, “And you’re an obnoxious asshole,” before placing her hand on the back of his neck and bringing him down, his mouth aligning with hers with ease.

She kissed like a woman of confidence, like a woman who knew what she expected of a lover and demanded he give her all. Crane allowed his hand to drift from her face down her back, kissing her with equal fervor, reveling in the sensation of having this woman in arms. She tasted like jasmine with a hint of iron. Or, perhaps, that was just what he’d always imagined she’d taste like.

As they kissed—Crane kissing her cheeks, Abbie stroking his chest, both of them touching and touching like they couldn’t get enough of each other—Crane backed her up until she sat on the ledge surrounding all of Knox’s treasures. He set her upon it before trailing his mouth down her throat, tonguing the warm skin. Abbie tipped her head back, sighing, one hand coasting down his back and another pulling his hair with a light tug.

Crane drifted downward, his mouth kissing her sternum through her shirt, his fingers brushing her breasts. He heard her sharp intake of breath as he pinched one nipple slightly, and he smiled. When he reached her jeans, he deftly unbuttoned them; Abbie lifted her lovely arse upward as he pulled them down to her ankles.

"Jesus, Crane," Abbie said breathlessly as he kissed the inside of her thighs. "We have to stop."

Crane nipped her, and she shuddered underneath him. “Why, precisely?”

Abbie sighed and then made a high-pitched utterance when his fingers traveled under the waistband of her underwear. “Because I don’t have any condoms with me,” she ground out, although she allowed him to pull her underwear down without protest. “And I’m not having sex with you without one, not when I’m not on the pill.”

Crane glanced up to see her forearm over her eyes as she continued, almost speaking to herself, “How’s he going to know what you’re talking about, Abbie? Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you—”

Lifting her arm down so he could see her face, Crane kissed the inside of her wrist. “I certainly do not want to do anything to your person that you would dislike. Besides—” And here he began yanking off her boots before disrobing her bottom half entirely, “I am certainly well-aware of what you speak, as I have been in this century long enough to learn of such things.” He parted her thighs, gazing at her sex, lovely and gleaming and wet. “And you are not the first generation to utilize contraceptive, dearest Abbie. It was certainly not as precise as it is within this century, but many women knew of herbs that could assist them—”

"Oh my God, Crane, I don’t give a shit about the history of birth control, just stop talking."

Crane laughed. Doing as she commanded, he took hold of her thighs to bring her closer, parting her wide, his mouth on her with a suddenness that left her gasping. Tonguing her folds—delicately, lightly—he felt her shiver and moan and swear underneath him. He licked her, sucked her, teased her until her back arched and she dug her heels into his shoulder, telling him he was a piece of shit to do this to her, and he just smiled all the while.

Adding a long finger, he widened her and circled her clitoris with his tongue, and she made a keening sound that he was rather proud to elicit from her lovely throat. She was close, he could tell: her thighs trembling, her body bowed backward. And when she dug her heels harder into his shoulders in a silent command, he added a second finger, hooking the digits upwards inside of her, and sucked her clitoris hard until she shook and moaned, wetness coating his tongue as she came.

Crane waited for her body to calm before standing. Abbie laid her forehead on his shoulder, breathing heavily, her hands gripping his shirt. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she muttered over and over, and Crane just smiled with what he knew she’d call a shit-eating grin. He smiled wider.

Abbie eventually pulled away, glanced down, and then looked back up at him. “What about—?”

Crane silenced her with a kiss. “You can repay me—” Abbie pinched him at this “—when we are free. For now, let us ascertain how we should escape this place.”

Sliding down, Abbie dressed with surprisingly quick motions for a woman who’d come as hard as she had. Standing up when finished, she grabbed him by the collar, bringing him down to her for a quick, hot kiss. “Oh believe me,” she said as she pulled her mouth from his, “I’ll repay you for that and then some when we get out of here.”

Crane just smiled. “I look forward to it, Lieutenant.”

**Author's Note:**

> Can I write anything but smut? Apparently not. Ah well, I guess there are worse fates.


End file.
